


Horizon

by waypoint



Series: Shoot in Space [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, F/F, shoot in spaaaaaace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-10 21:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waypoint/pseuds/waypoint
Summary: When Shaw and Root respond to a distress call from a nearby vessel, the pair are faced with obstacles of a somewhat mysterious nature.  Working against both time, and the ship itself, they must tread carefully in order to escape with their lives.Or Star Trek Shoot... again!





	1. The Distress Beacon

**Author's Note:**

> Just in time for Halloween (sort of) we are finally back in space! I'm not quite finished with it yet, as a result it might be a tad messy, but hopefully you'll like it either way.
> 
> If you haven't checked out the first part, here is all you really need to know:
> 
> -Shaw's previous ship was called the _Northern Lights_ , which was captained by Control.  
> -Root was (is?) a dangerous criminal, among the Federation's Most Wanted. She was arrested and then taken by Control's ship to be brought back to Earth. She has telepathic and empathic abilities, which means she can read your mind AND feelings.  
> -As a result of Root being on board, Shaw started to question Control's motives.  
> -Control tried to blow up the ship, but Shaw and Root both survived and were blamed for the destruction of a government vessel.  
> -Shoot smooched on a shuttlecraft.  
> -Root was taken by the Federation when they arrived @ Earth.  
> -Shaw's rescue attempt didn't go as planned, but ultimately succeeded with the help of Reese and Finch.  
> -Shoot is now on Finch's ship, the _Dashwood_ , where the Machine also happens to be, and they do their regular numbers thing... except in SPACE.  
> -Shoot is in lurve. Roll credits.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think!

 

 

 

Sameen Shaw stood with her back pressed firmly against the wall, clutching a USP Compact in her hand, breathing heavily. She looked to her right to see the galaxy's most wanted criminal, Root, in a similar position on the other side of the door frame. Wood from the door splintered, and she shielded her eyes from any debris.

 

“How many are left?” She asked the other woman.

 

Root peered into the room, but withdrew herself quickly into cover as more fragments of the door were blown outwards.

 

“Four.”

 

Shaw nodded. “Ammo?”

 

Root glanced down at the small guns in each of her hands, sighed, and ejected the magazine from her weapons. “Not much. These guns should really have a display counter on them.”

 

She had to agree, although part of her felt that using out-dated and unfamiliar technology added to the challenge. To prevent herself from dying of boredom between missions, Shaw created various programs to run on the holodeck aboard her new ship, the _Dashwood_. The games ranged from high speed chases on the edge of space, being hunted by Hirogen on a forest planet, or breaking up gang fights in the New York City of old. She and Root were nearing the end of the program where they subdue the remaining thugs stationed high in the Empire State Building. The simulations in the New York setting were among her favorite; the holograms were unpredictable and dangerous, and almost every successful incursion ended with she and Root in bed together.

 

Six months ago, after her own ship had betrayed and tried to kill her, Shaw found herself serving aboard the _Dashwood_. After convincing the ship's leader, Harold Finch, to let Root join them, the small crew traveled the galaxy, stopping violent crimes before they happened, all while evading any Starfleet government ships. Because of her “mutiny”, Shaw was now wanted by the Federation, although Root liked to brag that  _her_ bounty was much higher.

 

The _Dashwood_ had state of the art features, including a slipstream warp drive, which allowed them to travel at speeds much higher than any ships currently in service. As well as a cloaking device that had been created using both Klingon and Romulan technology. Of course, the main asset on the ship was the artificial intelligence know simply as The Machine. Using predictive technology, the Machine was able to determine when and where an act of violence might take place, and issue warnings, or “numbers” so that the ship could intervene and save lives. It wasn't a bad gig, Shaw thought.  Not unlike her previous work for Starfleet.

 

Despite their increased travel speed, there was still down-time during, or in between missions, which is why Shaw asked Root to join her in a simulation to pass the time.

 

Shaw's relationship with Root was still active, though not the business of anyone else. The murderer / thief / assassin had opened her eyes to the devious nature of her previous ship, the _Northern Lights_ , and in protecting Root from the wrath of the Federation, Shaw found herself developing some kind of bond with her. Root was intelligent, brave, beautiful, and great company on missions _and_ in the bedroom. Though she would probably deny it, Shaw very much enjoyed their arrangement, and would go as far as to say that she cares deeply for the other woman. Even if she could be incredibly annoying and invasive, using her telepathic abilities to plant inappropriate thoughts in Shaw's mind that _definitely weren't there to begin with_.

 

Bringing her attention back to the mission at hand, Shaw looked to Root. “Ready?”

 

Root lifted her guns and nodded. The two women stepped into the doorway together and fired on the remaining targets in the room. One by one the men fell, unable to withstand the synchronized onslaught of bullets. After the room was silent, Shaw lowered her weapon and stepped inside, taking a moment to peer out of the large window. The glass had shattered under the barrage of bullets, the breeze hitting Shaw as she approached, though she kept a safe distance away from the edge. The view of New York City was magnificent at this height. She turned back to Root, who remained near the center of the room.

 

“Mission accomplished?” Shaw asked.

 

Root smirked, “absolutely.”

 

Shaw allowed herself a small smile as well, but her expression fell when a man appeared at the doorway, limping into the room with an object in his hand. Root turned her body, and backed up towards Shaw, gun raised. He mumbled something quietly as he continued forward.

 

“The hell is th—oh shit,” she squinted to see that he carried an explosive in his hand, the timer ticking down with less than a minute remaining. “Turn that thing off!”

 

He ignored her and continued to shuffle forward.

 

“Sameen?” She glanced at Root. “Am I correct in assuming that your program doesn't have the safety protocols engaged?”

 

Shaw opened her mouth, then closed it again. Safety settings prevented users from getting hurt during simulated activities, and Shaw often disabled such nonsense for a more realistic and fun experience... which she was now reconsidering. Before she could halt the program, Root grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the window.

 

Oh no.

 

 _Oh yes._ She heard Root's voice buzzing in her head.

 

“Wait,” she glanced back at the explosive device, seconds from detonating. “We can just stop the progr—”

 

The other woman tightened her grip on Shaw's arm and pulled her through the open window. The explosion followed close behind, heat from the blast pushing them further into the crisp New York air.  Root had a strange idea of “fun”, it seemed, as they plummeted down at alarming speeds. She held a vice like grip on Shaw's arm, and flew with a grin plastered across her face. _Honestly._

 

Before she could process a solution to this problem, she heard the computer beep, indicating an incoming communication.

 

“ _Bridge to Miss Shaw_ ,” it was Harold.

 

“A little busy at the moment, Finch!” Shaw shouted, the air whipping by her as she and Root continued downwards to their deaths.

 

“ _I apologize for cutting your recreation short, but your presence is required. Please report to the bridge immediately._ ”

 

Shaw rolled her eyes, “Computer, end program.”

 

The system beeped in response, and the air began to slow down around them. Shaw eventually eased herself back into a vertical position before the gray floor of the holodeck materialized below her. Her black boots gently touched down, as did Root's booted heels next to her. She felt a hand on her shoulder as the taller woman wobbled on her feet, disoriented from the fall. Once she stood up straight, the pair made their way to the doors, proceeding down the corridor to the bridge.

 

Root practically skipped beside her. “That was amazing,” she said.

 

“It was insane.”

 

Root looped her arm through Shaw's and matched her stride. “What's the matter? You weren't scared were you?”

 

“Nope,” she popped the “p” sound.

 

“Don't forget that I can see inside your mind,” Root made a tsk noise, waging her index finger in a taunt.

 

Shaw quirked an eyebrow as they entered the turbo-lift. “I know how much you like being inside me.”

 

“Sameen,” Root's face flushed, and her hand came up to touch her cheek as she looked away. “How scandalous.”

 

She smirked, then commanded the lift: “Deck one.”

 

After a few seconds, the lift doors re-opened after they had arrived on the bridge. The pair stepped out together, still arm and arm, and were almost immediately addressed by the captain, Harold Finch. Though in his opinion, a ship was run by each member of the crew working together in harmony and no hierarchy really existed, Shaw considered his rank the highest since he designed the ship and the Machine.

 

He stood in front of a panel along the wall of the bridge. Circular in shape, the bridge maintained the ship's soft glow and consisted of a main chair in the center for the “captain”, and a station in front for manual piloting. As well, there were two stations along each wall, currently unmanned, with large computer panels to work on. On the displays were various ship information including current location, ship course and speed, as well as a weapons manifest, shield and life support information, communication channels and transporter functions. Root had told her that the Machine handled almost all of the ships functions and maintenance, but luckily everything was also accessible to their small human crew when necessary.

 

Harold Finch gestured for the pair to join him at the panel he was reviewing. He had stopped wearing his usual attire in favor of a more streamline uniform, as Shaw suggested shortly after joining their crew. His previous clothing reminded her of a school teacher from three hundred years ago, and she felt that some unity in their dress would perhaps make their operation run more smoothly. Taking inspiration from her old Starfleet uniform, the _Dashwood_ garb consisted of black slacks and a black jacket, which sat below the waistline. The jacket had a high collar with a U-shaped dip in the center for a less restricting fit, and a zipper that could be fastened at any desired length. A single stripe was horizontal across the chest, encircling the shoulders as well. The color of which was a preference of the wearer, but was always bordered in yellow. Finch varied this often, matching with a collared shirt he wore underneath, whereas John typically chose white, and Shaw black. Root, when she chose to adhere to the uniform, wore almost an identical piece but for some reason the strip of color was yellow with _black_ trim, and it was never zipped up. She claimed that this was something the Machine picked out for her. Currently though, the pair were dressed in clothing more suitable for their game on the holodeck. Shaw opting for jeans and a black sleeveless shirt, while Root chose black jeans and a leather jacket over a purple shirt.

 

Though the crew wore no rank indication, each wore a badge in the shape of a diamond, gold in color with a silver T embossed on the top. This acted as both a communication device and universal translator.  Finch also continued to wear glasses, even though the ship's doctor could correct his vision completely. As the two approached, he noticed their interlocked arms and his expression became tight.

 

“So what was so urgent, Professor?” He winced at the nickname.

 

“We intercepted an automated distress call from a nearby ship,” he explained. He touched a panel on the wall and the display lit up with the image of a small Federation ship drifting in space.

 

“I thought we already had a number?”

 

“That's correct, Miss Shaw. The _Dashwood_ is currently en route to a planet in the Bajoran sector to assist a number, however I was hoping that you and Miss Groves might take a shuttle craft to offer assistance to this vessel.”

 

He touched several more commands on the panel, showing their plotted course. The call for help was coming from a ship that wasn't terribly out of their way, but enough that it would delay their arrival to the Bajoran planet. The ship appeared to be drifting in space, which wouldn't normally be an urgent concern, but it looked like a powerful ion storm was about to pass by. Likely having minimal shields available, such a storm could cause serious harm to anyone aboard.

 

The plan was to have Shaw and Root handle the distress call by assisting with repairs to the ships propulsion, or evacuation of the crew if need be. They were then to pilot their shuttle to rendezvous with the _Dashwood._ Finch explained that since the vessel was Federation, the Machine would be providing cover identities and credentials for the two women to minimize the risk of being discovered. He looked like he wanted to say more, his blue eyes shifted uncomfortably between the two, and Shaw felt Root squeeze her bicep.

 

“Harry would like to speak with you privately, Sameen,” she said.

 

“I do wish you wouldn't read my thoughts, Miss Groves.”

 

“And I wish you wouldn't call me that, _Harry_ ,” Root replied. Shaw looked between the two as they stared at each other for a moment, then Root pulled away. “I'll meet you on the shuttle, Sam.”

 

She nodded and watched as Root crossed the bridge and entered the lift. She looked back to Harold. “Well?”

 

Finch clasped his hands behind his back and walked along the wall with his trade-mark limp, another thing Shaw knew could easily be corrected. She matched his pace.

 

“What are your intentions with Miss Groves?”

 

Shaw almost laughed. “My intentions?”

 

He touched horn-rimmed glasses on his face. “As you know, she is very dangerous and manipulative. I worry that she will use your fondness of her to get close to the Machine, and eventually betray us.”

 

Shaw sighed and dropped her head back, halting her steps. It was the same tune she heard from her captain on the _Northern Lights_. “You do know she's been speaking with the Machine since we got here? _It_ trusts her, why don't you?”

 

“I am aware of her close relationship with the Machine,” he signed, turning to face her. “All I'm saying is, do be careful. For all our sakes.”

 

She turned on her heel and walked towards the lift. Shaw considered telling him to mind his own business, but decided to keep quiet. It was his ship after all, and felt like she owed him some respect.

 

Just not enough that gave him a say in who she spends her free time with.

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

In the first month after joining the _Dashwood_ , the Machine began providing the team with missions that held alternate benefits, in addition to saving lives of course. They would sometimes stumble upon a weapons cache, deuterium deposits, and the like.

 

One mission lead them to a ship yard containing vehicles and ship parts that were to be broken down and reprocessed. Shaw was not surprised to find that Root's old shuttlecraft, the _Contingency_ , was among the wreckage, and made the decision to salvage it for away missions. It was similar to a type 11 shuttle, but Root had modified it several times using technology she acquired from other species. The small ship was faster than most available to Starfleet, with a shield system and cloaking device that would prevent her from being detected in most situations. After reading the specifications, Shaw noted that there was room for improvement as far as the weapon system was concerned, but Root remarked that sometimes it was smarter to out-run, instead of out-gun.

 

“And how did that work out when you got arrested?” Shaw asked from the pilot's seat in the front. She half turned her head to look at Root, who worked on the operations console behind her.

 

“Well Sameen, as you know a storm interfered with my cloaking systems,” the woman replied flatly. Shaw occasionally liked to tease her about the capture, and smirked from her station. “What did Harry talk to you about?”

 

Shaw recalled the brief conversation. “He doesn't approve of our,” she gestured with her hand, “whatever.”

 

“Relationship?”

 

“Yeah,” she pointed to the ceiling, “that.”

 

Root sighed, but with more mock-dejection and less irritation. “So you're saying that neither of your space parents like me.”

 

Shaw's face twisted, unsure of which part of the statement was the worst. “Don't be gross,” she suppressed a shudder, and Root's light laugh filled the space. “We should review our covers.”

 

“Speaking of, I've been working on something to help with that.”

 

She spun in her chair to fully face Root. Since they were posing as members of Starfleet, they were dressed appropriately. Root was wearing a standard Starfleet jumpsuit, consisting of black slacks, a black jacket with gray covering the shoulders, and cuffs on the wrist matching her shirt color. Underneath she wore the blue of the science division, zipped up to her neck, with two gold pips to indicate her rank as Lieutenant for this mission.

 

Shaw herself had a similar uniform, but for the first time in her career her undershirt was red to indicate her position of command, and four gold pips were across her neck, giving her the role of Captain. Root's brown hair was flowing down in it's usual loose curls, while Shaw's hair was tied up in a bun, strands tucked securely behind her ears. Root held her communication badge in her hand, fiddling with the back before pinning it to the proper place on her chest.

 

Root tapped the pin, and her image shifted before Shaw's eyes. Her chestnut brown hair was now golden blonde, a little shorter than normal, and was tied up in a high pony tail.

 

“What the...?” She stood from her seat. Root turned her head from side to side, Shaw could now see that her ears had changed as well, reminding Shaw of a fairy. The skin was longer and pulled higher, in addition to being closer to her skull than a human ear. “That's handy.”

 

“Isn't it? The Machine and I have been working on it for a while. This way I can avoid being recognized when we're in the field together.” She touched her pin again, and her appearance returned to normal.

 

“How long until we arrive?” Shaw asked. Root touched several panels before looking up, their eyes met and she smiled.

 

“The ship, the um,” she looked back down at her display, “ _U.S.S. Horizon_ is in visual range. Want to take a peak?”

 

“Put it on screen.”

 

“Anything you say, _captain_ ,” she dragged out the word, her voice full of suggestion. Shaw turned her body to face the view screen at the front of the craft. An image of the _Horizon_ filled the screen, it appeared to be drifting, both engine nacelles were dark, and Shaw could see some damage on the outer portion of the hull. As the ship spun around, she also saw something... strange.

 

“Could you increase magnification?”

 

“Coming right up,” she heard the beeping of Root completing the request. The screen flickered, and they were given a closer look. There appeared to be something lodged in the ship, near the main deflector. It wasn't clear, even at maximum magnification, but Shaw didn't like it.

 

“Let's see if anyone is on board,” Shaw sat back down at the pilot's seat, and entered an open communication channel. “ _U.S.S. Horizon_ , this is Captain Sameen Gray of the Federation ship _Liberty_ ,” she recited her the credentials provided by the Machine. “We're here in response to the distress beacon currently emitting from your ship.”

 

The pair sat listening to the whirring of the shuttlecraft, but no reply came from the _Horizon_.

 

“Sameen, I'm not seeing any life-signs on the ship,” Root said from behind her.

 

Shaw spun in her chair again, “you sure?” Root nodded.

 

That was strange, if there was no one, who activated the distress beacon? Shaw shook her head. Crew manifest lists almost one hundred people on board and if they wanted to find out what happened, they may need to go in for a closer look. “How much longer until the storm hits?”

 

“From the sensor data, I'd say about two hours.”

 

She rubbed her chin, then met Root's eyes. “You up for a field trip?”

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

After ensuring that the _Horizon_ 's environmental controls and life support systems were functioning, Root and Shaw decided to transport themselves onto the ship in order to investigate the cause of the distress beacon. The initial hope was that their shuttle could be docked, but the attempts to access the controls for the door were unsuccessful. They left the _Contingency_ a safe distance away, armed themselves with lights, scanners, and phasers, before beaming aboard.

 

They materialized in the mess hall on deck three. Shaw would have liked to go straight to the bridge, but interference prevented them from transporting directly. When they arrived, the first thing Root noticed was the smell, so heavy and potent that she could almost see it, if you could see anything at all. It may have been rotting food products, but it was a rare thing for ships to have actual food lying around. Burning, mixed with something stale perhaps? The odor invaded her senses and made it difficult to focus.

 

The room was almost completely black, with no emergency lights to guide them. Root activated the light she wore on her wrist and the two beams of white sprayed forward. Before she could do a preliminary sweep of the room, she felt Shaw grab her forearm arm. She looked to see the other woman doubled over, eyes closed tightly. Root didn't bother asking if she was all right; she knew that Shaw got nauseous after transporting, the added stench probably not helping with her condition. She often remarked that her stomach re-materialized upside down.

 

“Okay,” Shaw said thickly, standing upright. She activated her own wrist light and looked around. The room was devoid of people, but it appeared to have been hastily cleared. Drinks, data PADDs, and minimal food items were left abandoned on the tables. Definitely not rotten, so it wasn't the cause of the smell. Shaw retrieved the tricorder from her belt and began conducting scans, walking towards the door. “Still no life-signs on sensors. Can you hear anyone besides us?”

 

Root focused her abilities, and tried to reach out to anyone on the ship that the sensor sweep might have missed. She always appreciated moments of stillness; when she was alone with her thoughts. The quiet on the _Horizon_ , however, was different. It was thick, eerie, and unsettling. So much that she felt the hair stand up on her skin, and a shiver race up her spine. Her heart sped up and she reached out and took Shaw's hand, using her somewhat limited emotional range as grounding. The other woman was calm, mildly concerned by Root's reaction and, as always, hungry. A small smile crossed Root's face, relieved by Shaw's dependability.

 

“What is it?” The smaller woman said.

 

“Nothing, I—” she paused, and took a breath, feeling her heart return to a normal rate. “I don't hear anything.”

 

Shaw nodded, squeezing Root's hand before releasing it. “Okay, let's head to the bridge, see if we can figure out what happened and get the hell out of here. It's only been three minutes and this ship is already creeping me out.”

 

“Are you afraid of something, Captain Gray?”

 

Shaw's glare was barely visible in the low light, but Root knew it was there. They made their way to the exit and into the corridor. “The lift better be functional. I'm not crawling through tubes.”

 

The pair walked down the corridor cautiously, while lights from their wrists continued to be their only source of illumination. Sections of the hall were covered in a thick later of smoke that seemed to be pouring from a damaged conduit, which occasionally flickered with small sparks of light. Scans indicated it was venting and luckily posed no danger.

 

A sound vibrated through the metal walls that caused both women to freeze. Like something scraped across the bulkhead and down the corridor. At first it was light, but then seemed to grow take on some weight. Shaw responded by drawing the phaser from her belt, sweeping her light from left to right, then up and down in an attempt to find the origin.

 

“Anything?”

 

Root closed her eyes and once again listened for anything she could reach with her telepathy. “Nothing.”

 

 _Well_ nothing _didn't make that noise._ Shaw thought. Root glanced at the other woman and saw that she was rubbing her neck. Root had read her thoughts unintentionally.

 

“We should keep moving,” Root said out loud, to which Shaw nodded. The weapon remained in her hand.

 

After only a few steps forward, Root's foot encountered something slick on the ground. A yelp escaped her lips as her boot slid forward against the moisture, body tipping backwards. Shaw's arms snapped out to grab Root before she fell however, and held on until she regained balance.

 

“Thanks,” she breathed, fighting the quiver in her voice.

 

“You okay?”

 

Root nodded, squinting in the dark to see what caused her almost-fall. Leaning against the wall, she raised her foot and shined her wrist light straight down.

 

She had slipped in blood.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The race that Root shifts her appearance to is Ocampa. And that device is never used or mentioned again.


	2. What Happens On The Bridge...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw and Root venture deeper in the Horizon in an attempt to find answers.

 

 

Shaw knelt down to examine the puddle of blood that Root had slipped on moments ago. Concentrated in a small pool by her feet, the fluid contrasted harshly against the light gray floor, and seemed to streak in the direction they were supposed to be heading. Shaw used the light on her wrist to look down the long corridor, and the blood continued, breaking off at the junction towards the end of the hall. Something or some _one_ , had been seriously injured, then dragged away.

 

She drew the tricorder on her belt and accessed the _Horizon_ schematics that she had previously downloaded, that way she and Root could find the most direct path to the bridge without getting lost. After they found the source of the blood, that is. She returned the scanner to her belt in favor of holding her phaser instead.

 

“Let's keep moving,” she told the telepath, and continued to walk beside the red streaks. Root used her light to better illuminate the ground, while Shaw's remained forward to watch for threats.

 

When they reached the junction, Shaw turned her head to look in both directions. The turbo-lift was down to the left, while patches of blood continued on the right. Knowing that finding the source would tell them more about what happened, she decided on the latter.

 

As they kept walking, Shaw was beginning to see damage along the walls. Plasma burns, dents, and scratches in the metal were visible under her light. Questions were beginning to pile up in her mind, but only one stood out: Where the hell was the crew?  A ship this size couldn't be run on a skeleton crew like the  _Dashwood_. Continuing to sweep her light left and right, she saw much more blood lining the walls, and not all of it was human anymore.

 

“Watch your step,” Root's voice drew her attention, and she brought her gaze down to the floor.

 

Surprisingly, they were about to step into a large pool of what appeared to be water, the red streaking in the mostly clear liquid. Following the stream with her eyes, it lead a few meters down the corridor and was originating from an open door. Recalling the schematics she had just seen, Shaw knew that it was the airponics bay. She took a step towards it, her boots sloshing in the water, but Root remained behind her.

 

“Sameen,” she said, “I hear something.”

 

Despite likely referring to noise of a telepathic nature, Shaw stopped to listen. The flickering of lights at the end of the hall, the water gushing in the distance, and a faint thumping noise.

 

“Yeah. I do, too.”

 

The door, which would normally remain closed, was stuck open. Shaw tightened the grip on her weapon and walked towards it. Some kind of outside force had bent the metal outward, presumably while attempting to get inside. Shaw found that to be curious; why would anyone need to access plants so urgently? The automatic door kept sliding a few inches forward, then back, in an attempt to close. The rotten smell they encountered in the mess hall continued to linger in the air, though now it held a dampness to it.

 

She walked inside, with Root now close behind her. A large light in the corner of the room remained mostly on, but flickered erratically. The metal racks in the room that held the plant specimens had been knocked over. Green leaves were floating in the water, now several inches in depth. The stomping sound was much louder and clearer in here. Mixed in with the thump was a wetness, but she could hear a sharpness as well. Shaw felt Root tap her shoulder, and she simply pointed forward.

 

There was someone in the room with them.

 

The person must have heard the two women entering the room, trudging through water quietly is very difficult after all, but they remained with their back to the door. Shaw looked down again at the water, noticing that a significant amount of red was now flowing _towards_ them. She swallowed before stepping around the fallen racks, finally seeing the source of the noise. And the blood.

 

Standing upright was a member of the _Horizon_ crew, a Vulcan from the looks of it. Shaw could see the pointed tips of their ears catching shadows of the flickering white light while they brought their foot down to the ground over and over again. Underneath them was what used to be a human being. For some reason the Vulcan was pounding it's foot down on the chest of the other person, or more accurately, where the chest would normally be. Their boot appeared to have pierced through their body and was now hitting the wet floor of the airponics bay. Shaw could see crushed bones among the carnage, pieces of the spine sticking out from where it had been severed, and any organs that got in the way were pulverized into paste. They must have been thrashing for quite some time to inflict this sort of damage. Blood and water splashed up, but the Vulcan continued it's onslaught. She heard Root gasp sharply, while her own stomach lurched at the sight. It was one thing to see a Vulcan have such a physical outburst, but quite another to see someone who has been stomped on to the point where their insides were on display.

 

Shaw raised her weapon. “Stop what you're doing and turn around,” she ordered. The alien didn't respond to her, but she heard him mumbling something to himself. The words _unclean_ , _unsafe_ , and _stay_ stuck out.

 

Well, that, and _dead_. Over and over again. Dead. Dead. Dead.

 

She shook her head, but before she could speak again the Vulcan spun around, finally having realized he was not alone in the room. He screamed at the pair, lurching forward and grabbing Shaw by her shoulders, shaking her violently. Her phaser dropped into the tainted water below and he threw her back into one of the plant racks before pushing passed Root and sprinting through the water into the hallway.

 

“Getting pretty sick of this ship,” Shaw grumbled.

 

Root touched her shoulder as she righted herself. The other woman's voice shook. “Are you all right?”  Shaw nodded. “Want to go after him?”

 

“No.” Even if they could catch and subdue him, she somehow doubted he would be articulate enough to tell them what happened. Or why he was stomping his co-workers chest until their insides were mush.  “We should head to the bridge,” Shaw looked down in the murky water for her weapon, furrowing her brow when she spotted it next to the body.

 

As she knelt down to retrieve it, she couldn't help but look at the mess of human giblets floating in the water below. She doubted this person could be easily identified now, as the Vulcan had also taken the time to stomp on their skull. Hopefully their cause of death was something else prior, but in that scenario what reason would there be to inflict this kind of damage after the fact?

 

Shaw reached for her weapon, but something in the body caught her eye. Shaw noticed there was an object sticking out from where the spine would have been, had it not be crushed. It was long and yellow in color, almost like the claw or leg of an insect. She reached for it but withdrew her hand, feeling the hair on her arms stand up.

 

She stood up and turned to Root, who was facing towards the door, holding a hand flat across her stomach. Shaw was a doctor, and even she'd never seen something quite like this, so she could safely assume that Root probably hadn't either. Regardless, it was well passed time to leave this room.

 

“Let's go.”

 

 

 

>

 

 

 

Shaw and Root continued down the corridor to the turbo-lift, eager to find answers about what caused the distress signal to be activated on the ship. The halls showed evidence of a serious invasion, and it occurred to Shaw once again that they had been seeing a fair amount of blood, but no _bodies_ to accompany them. She was about to verbalize the observation, but Root, having likely been following her train of thought, spoke first.

 

“I'm really trying not to think about that, Shaw.”

 

She nodded to herself as they approached the elevator and, to her surprise and relief, it was still functioning. The doors parted and they entered together. “Bridge.”

 

The ship vibrated in response, groaning as the lift began it's ascent. It shook so strongly that Shaw reached out to hold one of the walls, and it was as if the elevator hadn't been used in years. She would add it to the growing list of things she hated about this ship.

 

“Root,” Shaw began, still holding the wall to steady herself, “how come you didn't hear the Vulcan in the airponics bay?”

 

She looked to the telepath, who was frowning, her eyes on the floor. “It was strange,” she'd said. “When I saw him I tried to look inside his head to get answers, but his mind was completely blank. It's possible they were shutting me out with their own telepathy, but...”

 

The lift stopped, but it had only arrived on deck two. “This stupid fucking thing,” Shaw said, manually entering commands using the panel inside. The compartment shook and started moving again. “Go on.”

 

“A person's mind never turns off, not really anyway. For example, even when you're sleeping your mind continues to mumble _sweet nothings_ to me.” Shaw quirked an eyebrow and Root's lips curled up a fraction. “It's usually nonsense, but it's _something_ ,” her smile began to fade. “This, though... it was like he was already dead, but his body hadn't caught up.”

 

Once again the lift had stopped, it's doors opening automatically to reveal the bridge. Emergency light provided an adequate view of the space: a circular room with operation and sensor stations on the top level, the captain and first officer chair sat side by side on the second landing, followed by the piloting station several meters in front. She might think it was a nice looking bridge, had it not suffered the apparent damage of a fire fight. The console at the front was smashed, the seat thrown to the side, and the work station that lined the wall flickered, likely no longer functioning. Of course, the obscene odor continued to follow them around, no less powerful here on the bridge. Shaw used the light on her wrist to check out the ground, finding streaks of human and alien blood across the floor and over the operations console. She walked down onto the landing and crossed to the captain's chair. Through the large window, Shaw could see a collection of stars in the space surrounding them, as well as fragments of rock and mineral, and the fast approaching ion storm. Streaks of blue and white danced across the blackness before her, a sight both beautiful and dangerous. Not unlike her partner, she thought

 

“Time to find out what happened,” she said, taking a seat in the large chair. Root stood to her right, keeping her eyes on both the door to the lift they just came from, and the door that led out into the corridor. Shaw accessed the console between the two chairs, finding security footage from before the distress beacon was activated. “It's a little patchy and I don't think I can get sound, but this should give us an idea. I'll put it on screen.”

 

The view screen flickered to life in front of them, and both women eagerly awaited an explanation for the strangeness they had faced in their short time on the _Horizon_. They see an image of the bridge, pristine and undamaged, occupied by an assortment of Starfleet officers. Humans, Vulcan, Bolian, Klingon, and a few others worked at their stations, nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then the lights flickered, replaced with a red glow as the captain called red alert on the vessel. The power to their ship must have immediately been damaged, and the footage was completely black except when the red light blinked.

 

Shaw then sees something dart across the image, followed by the gold glow of phaser fire from some of the bridge officers. Shaw was startled when Root sharply gasped, and looked to see the telepath lift her hands to her ears. There still wasn't any sound coming from the video, or from the bridge itself, however. More curiously, the _Horizon_ crew on screen had covered their ears as well.

 

“What is it?” She asked, but Root just shook her head.

 

One of the officers, the pilot, was dragged from their seat by the mystery intruder, their body thrown to the side as the alien struck them. Shaw saw more flashes of the beast in the brief seconds of light; the shape of it's body was similar to that of an insect, the praying mantis, though significantly larger. Shaw squinted at the image hoping to catch a better glimpse of whatever had done this. She stood from her seat and continued watching. The creature moved with incredible speed across the bridge, eventually eliminating everyone in sight. At some point during the commotion, the captain must have activated the distress signal that brought them here.

 

The movement stopped, all that was left on screen was the flashing red light, and the motionless bodies belonging to the crew. Shaw thought it was over, but tensed when she saw one of them being dragged away, presumably by the alien itself. She thought she saw the pilot moving too, but that couldn't be. The more likely explanation being that another alien was outside of their visual range.

 

The images continued to play out before them static distorting the image from time to time, until eventually they saw the bridge as it was now: deserted, showing only end result of the carnage that took place.

 

After a few seconds, she looked to Root.  The ion storm was close enough that the blue light it emitted cast a glow over the bridge. Root was beautiful in the light, but it didn't diminish the fear in her eyes when she turned to face her. Shaw took a deep breath.

 

“I think we need to get off this ship.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Airponics Bay is where they grow plants on the ship.


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw and Root attempt to leave the Horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that so many people like Shoot in Space as much as I do!

 

 

After viewing the footage from the bridge crew's final moments, Shaw decided that she had seen enough and that she and Root needed to leave the ship as soon as possible. She drew the tricorder, flipping it open and placed it on the console beside the captain's chair.

 

“I'm downloading all the data from the ship and we're getting the hell out of here. We can review everything once we're back on the _Contingency_.”

 

Shaw sat in the captain's chair used the small console to begin the transfer of all ship information, logs, sensors readings, and everything else to her tricorder. The ship shook once again, which she would have blamed on the approaching storm, but the accompanying moaning in the distance probably wasn't coming from space. Root had her arms crossed, apparently suppressing a shiver, and glanced around the room. Shaw tapped her foot in anticipation, the unease in her body growing with every passing second, until finally the transfer was complete. She took the tricorder from the station, folding it closed before returning it to her belt. She then tapped the communication badge on her chest.

 

“Shaw to _Contingency_.”

 

“ _Go ahead, Sameen,_ ” the computer voice responded. Only, it _wasn't_ the computer voice. In fact, it sounded an awful lot like—

 

“Root... did you give the ship your voice?”

 

That earned a smile from her partner. Root explained that she integrated the Machine into the _Contingency_ after they had retrieved it from the ship yard. She was able to alter the AI's core code, allowing the Machine to take on a wider range of functions, as well as _choose_ a unique voice of Her own. Root seemed to think it was very flattering that the AI choose to mimic hers.

 

Shaw rolled her eyes, “whatever. Lock on to our signals and initiate transport.”

 

“ _I'm afraid I can't do that, Sameen._ ”

 

“Why not?”

 

“ _The energy from the ion storm is causing issues with my targeting scanners,_ ” of course it was. “ _If you can make it to the transporter room on deck two in section 3 , we can use the ship's remaining power to clean up the signal._ ”

 

“Terrific,” she replied, her tone unimpressed.

 

She finally stood from the captain's chair, drawing the phaser from her belt and motioning for Root to do the same. If a hostile alien killed the rest of the crew, it could still be lurking about, and she wasn't going to get ambushed like the _Horizon_ had been.

 

Root re-activated the light on her wrist, the beams unsteady in front of her. Though the pair had been in plenty of dangerous situations in the recent past, Shaw couldn't recall her trembling like this. In fact, Shaw didn't think she was afraid of anything.

 

In her experience most people were afraid of the unknown. Being a telepath, Root didn't have that problem. If there was something she needed or wanted to know, she used her abilities to get it. That's part of what made her such a dangerous enemy; it's difficult to defend yourself against someone who knows everything about you. Or a person who could plant thoughts in your head with such skill that you don't even know _yourself_ anymore. It was for these reasons that Shaw thought her to be fearless, and why the woman usually carried herself with an air of confidence that told you she was unstoppable and knew it. Shaw thought it to be one of her more attractive qualities, which Root was no doubt aware of.

 

Now however, she walked with small steps, her breathing was uneven and eyes darted around.  The tension in her body was obvious to Shaw, and if there was something on this ship that scared even _Root_... well, it wasn't good. Regardless, they needed to press forward.

 

The two women entered the turbo-lift once again, and Shaw used the panel inside to activate it. Like last time, the lift groaned and shook before slowly beginning the decent. She wouldn't be surprised it stopped functioning all together and went into a free fall, the ship was _that_ ridiculous so far.  After a few seconds of quiet, Root suddenly let out a loud hiss of pain, her hands coming up to cradle her head.

 

“Root?”

 

She shook her head, taking a deep breath. “Something strange is happening,” Shaw gave her a look as if to say _no shit_ , so she elaborated, “with me.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Root's fingers pressed against her temple. “I can hear voices, a lot of them, all at once,” she leaned against the wall of the lift, her body slowly sliding to the ground.

 

Who could she be hearing, Shaw wondered. Considering their scans hadn't detected any life-signs, and taking into account what they had seen on the bridge, she assumed the whole crew had been killed. Besides, wasn't Root used to this sort of thing?

 

Root shook her head again, eyes opening. Shaw knelt down in front of her. “It's not quite like that, Sam. Most of the time I have to focus, or touch someone to use my abilities, but right now it's like...” she pressed her palms against her skull, “it's too much, I can't even hear my own thoughts. I'm drowning.”

 

Shaw reached forward to take Root's hands and pull them away from her face. The telepath's eyes were shining with tears, and they peered deeply into Shaw's in search of comfort and stability. Shaw then put her hands where Root's had been, palms rubbing circles on her temple.

 

“All the noise in that big head of yours...” Shaw began, Root breathed a small laugh.  “Can you still hear _me_ in there?”

 

Root's slender fingers came up and wrapped around her wrists. Her eyes fell shut and she let out a slow breath, relaxing. “Yes.”

 

“Good. Focus on me then,” Root opened her eyes again, looking forward. Shaw tilted her head trying to catch her gaze. “Think you can handle that?” Before Root responded, the lift stopped, having arrived at their destination. Shaw released her face in favor of squeezing Root's shoulders. She then stood up before offering a hand to her partner. “Now, what do you say we get the fuck out of here?”

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

Armed with phasers, lights, and determination, Root and Shaw walked down the corridor towards the transporter room. Root's head continued to be flooded with noise, like a hundred voices were screaming all at once. Shaw might have described it as the way a sporting event was; the crowd cheering in unison without specific words being clear, all the noise blurring together.

 

Since Shaw suggested that she focus on _her_ voice amidst the chaos, Root found it easier to keep everything in check. Shaw had incredible concentration on the task at hand, but Root felt she was letting her mind wander for her sake. She heard the former officer recite her previous rank and serial number four times already, in addition to making a mental list of what she wanted to do once they were back on the _Dashwood_. Most of those activities involved Bear, the holographic dog.

 

Shaw stopped once they reached the junction, returning her weapon to her belt and drawing her tricorder instead. “The transporter room is down this hallway,” she pointed in the darkness. “The interference is higher now, too. I'd say we have less than an hour before we're caught in the storm.”

 

The walls around them shook and Root couldn't be sure if it was a result of said storm, or the aliens running around between the bulkheads. Root felt a prickling behind her eyes as the noise in her head continued to increase in volume and clarity. Although most of the voices were still unrecognizable, something was sticking out from the static, and it wasn't Shaw anymore.

 

 _The weak shall be eliminated_ , they'd said. The voice was thick and sharp, the sound tumbling around in her skull. _The worthy will join us_.

 

“How very _Borg_ of you,” Root said out loud. Shaw turned to look at her in the darkness, no doubt a quizzical expression on her face.

 

“What?” But Root waved her off, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to stay present. The pair resumed their journey at a slightly increased pace. Then, Shaw spoke again, “Root, don't joke about Borg. If we detect a cube in the area, I swear I'm leaving you on this ship and blowing it up,” she paused. “Careful here.”

 

Root pointed her light down to the floor, seeing fragments of metal and some power couplings littering the ground. More evidence of the struggle that occurred on the ship that was accompanied by human blood, and an exposed conduit that sparked irregularly. “This ship stinks,” Root sighed.

 

Soon, they stood in front of the door to the transporter room, both eager to get a safe distance from the ship and complete a thorough examination of the data they retrieved. The ship rumbled as Shaw made to access the panel beside the door, but Root suddenly heard a loud screeching sound, the noise powerful enough that she nearly doubled over. Both hands came up to cover her ears and a pained gasp escaped from her lips. She wasn't sure if the sound was in her head or not.

 

Shaw spun to face her before the door opened, “Root?” 

 

She lifted her head in time to see one of the aliens burst from the now open door and slam hard into Shaw, the smaller woman sent backwards into the bulkhead behind her. There was little light from inside the room, and Root was able to see the alien more clearly than she had in the video. Although it was still incredibly dark in the corridor, she could see that the alien was large, light colored, and insect-like in shape. It's three hind legs bent backwards to form a sort of triangle and it's large abdomen hung close to the ground. The alien's arms were long enough to touch the ground, tentacle-like in structure. They were fluid in their motions, not holding a solid shape at any given time. At the tips of it's arms were several smaller tendrils that held a yellow glow, their own individual movements hypnotizing.

 

The creature's eyes were golden yellow, sunken on either side of it's bulbous head, peering deep into Root's face and into her mind. Four large mandibles opened up on it's face as it shrieked once again. The alien made to move towards her, but stopped when the light from a phaser struck it's thorax, then again on it's head. It spun around using it's long reach to strike at Shaw before it leapt over her, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. The noise finally subsided enough that Root no longer felt paralyzed. She stumbled to where Shaw had been knocked down, finding that she needed to lean against the wall to stay upright. Root pointed her light down and saw Shaw begin to raise herself back up, though she held her left bicep tightly.

 

“I _hate_ this ship,” she'd said, almost nonchalantly. Her fingertips came away stained with blood, clinical eyes no doubt doing a quick assessment of her injury. The gash was non life-threatening, but looked pretty deep, and Root couldn't help but feel guilty that she wasn't able to warn her partner of the alien lurking inside the room. “Hey,” Shaw said, grabbing her attention, “turn that frown around. This is nothing.”

 

Root nodded, appreciating Shaw making light of her injury. Root watched her wipe her bloody hand on her pants and retrieve her weapon. She faced the door, a few stray hairs now hung in front of her face, having come loose from the bun.

 

Shaw stepped into the room with her phaser and flashlight pointed forward, but stopped in her tracks after only a few meters inside. As Root followed after, her breath caught in her throat at the sight before them: several bodies belonging to the _Horizon_ crew had been unceremoniously tossed onto the transporter pad, the stench of death wafting forward with a physical presence. Root coughed, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, as she continued to look upon the scene, assisted by Shaw's light. Blood from all the deceased pooled on the bottom of the pile, some of the bodies were dismembered while others were simply mangled, but all had a discoloration which she found to be strange. Rather than a paleness that she would normally associate with death, the skin on the human corpses was tinted yellow, their eyes milky white... those that remained open, that is. The humming noise that had been pestering her since they left the bridge seemed to be louder in here, and Shaw's mind had fallen silent, leaving Root temporarily adrift with nothing as an anchor.

 

“We need another way out,” Shaw said. Whether she was addressing Root or the Machine back on the _Contingency_ was unclear.

 

Root used her wrist light to look over the pile, the butchery another added layer to the unusual happenings they've run into since coming aboard the _Horizon_. Her line of sight snapped to the bottom, where a seemingly new addition to the collection seemed to stir.

 

“Sameen—”

 

“I see it.”

 

Root took a step forward, but Shaw stretched her arm out to stop her from advancing further. At first she thought it was just the strain from this mission causing her mind to play tricks, but the two continued to look on as the impossible happened before their eyes.

 

The dead body stood back up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Space zombies?
> 
> Space Zombies.


	4. Escape (Plan B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Shaw and Root try an alternate path to freedom, they encounter a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

 

 

Having spent several years in Starfleet Medical School before she was recruited by Control, Shaw had seen things that could only be described as impossible. Limbs that had been completely removed, were regrown again with ease. A fetus that was a high risk for hereditary disease were cured before leaving the womb of their mothers. Skin that suffered plasma burns were grafted and healed, looking better than before the injury. Hell, she had even seen a person who was clinically dead be revived with the assistance of nano-probes. Such were the advances of medical science.

 

What she was witnessing now was _not_ a result of an amazing feat of medicine, but some kind of... disease? Parasite? It was straight out of science fiction, which was saying a lot considering they were on a _space ship_. All she knew with absolute certainty is that she and Root were in real danger.

 

The creature, or whatever it was, maintained most of it's previous human shape with some disfiguration along the spine causing their posture to be hook-like. Yellow tinted skin seemed to glow against her light, and their white eyes looked straight ahead, right through her. The person's mouth hung open slightly, and Shaw could see their teeth were stained with some black substance that made them look completely rotted. On their chest was a large gash, presumably the cause of their death, and the front of their uniform was wet with their own blood. Perhaps most disturbing of all was that there were thin tendrils coming from _inside_ the wound itself, vines of a yellowish green color slid up the deceased's chest, and settled around their neck. Like being strangled by a small squid or—

 

Her train of thought was cut off by the person shuffling towards them, a low moan escaping between their parted lips. More figures in the pile had begun to stir as well. Shaw reached her hand back until she could touch Root's arm.

 

“Back up. Slowly,” Shaw said quietly, holding her weapon at waist height.

 

It seemed to detect their movement, and the person opened their mouth to screamed at them. The sound was inhuman, coming from low in their throat. Shaw raised her phaser and immediately fired, halting any further movement, while pushing Root outside of the open door behind her. The creature only stumbled before continuing the advance, and Shaw shot him again, this time in the head, sending him backwards onto the blood stained ground. Shaw backed up through the door, joining Root in the hallway, and used the panel beside the entrance to seal it again.

 

Shaw tapped her communication badge to address the _Contingency_. “Get us out of here,” she said to the Machine. Before She responded, Shaw heard loud banging on the door to the transporter room, so she took Root's hand and jogged down the dark corridor. “ _Now._ ”

 

“ _I am still unable to lock on to your signals, Sameen. If you cannot reach transporter room, the controls can also be accessed from main engineering. It is located on deck two, Section 2._ ”

 

The _Horizon's_ proximity to the storm, and obvious damage to the inertial dampening function meant the ship was now constantly shaking and rumbling. As they reached the end of a junction, Shaw was hit with a wave of dizziness that caused her to lose her balance and fall against the metal bulkhead. Similar to the feeling she had after transport, only this time her vertigo was brought on by nothing unusual.

 

Knowing the difficulty she sometimes had with nausea, Root leaned in close and put her hand on Shaw's back. “Just breathe, sweetie.”

 

She tried to follow her partner's advice, but Shaw felt like she was only getting air from the tops of her lungs. Although her surroundings were still incredibly dark, the room around her spun, she found herself squeezing her eyes shut, trying to will the pain away. Shaw felt her insides twisting around inside her, and it was all she could do not to empty her stomach.  They did  _not_ have time for this.

 

When the static started to clear from her head, she realized that the wound she received from the alien was burning so intensely that her entire left arm felt numb. Probably already infected from all the germs in the air. Disgusting. She shook out her head and eased herself back into a standing position, now cradling her arm.

 

“Let's move.”

 

 

 

/

 

 

 

As they continued down the dark corridor at a hurried pace, Root's head continued to be bombarded with noise. She had been doing her best to keep everything at bay, trying to separate the voices from Shaw, or anything else that could keep her focused until they finally left the _Horizon_.  However, when Shaw stumbled to the ground, Root felt something was off when she touched her, a sort of glitch in the other woman's mind. It seemed to fade away along with the spell of dizziness. Of course, Shaw would probably blame her balance on the ship's unsteadiness, but Root couldn't help fear that something else might be the cause.

 

Still, she followed the other woman down the hall to main engineering. Root became aware of another voice as they rounded the corner. “Shaw, wait,” she said.

 

Shaw stopped, then turned to face her. Root could see that she was breathing quite heavily, and more of her hair had come from her bun and was sticking to her face. Root pointed her light down the hall in the direction she heard the voice, and sure enough, the same Vulcan crew member they saw stomping the life his colleague was leaning against the wall, tapping a panel that was non-functional. His head jerked up with the light hit him, his eyes wide. He raced towards them, halting when Shaw raised her weapon. Root drew her own phaser as well, keeping her light forward. Down the corridor behind him Root could see the main engineering door.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Shaw asked him, her voice rough like gravel. She cleared her throat.

 

“I am protecting myself,” he replied, raising his arms high. “My mind is... a _fortress._ My body, a temple!”

 

Like Shaw, Root found it incredibly strange to see this kind of behavior from a Vulcan of all people. Considering everything they'd seen on this ship, she supposed it was _possible_ that he suffered a mental breakdown, though it seemed highly improbable. She peered into this eyes, they were unfocused and vacant in the way you would expect a madman to be, but they did not share the same hollow and white quality as the “dead” person they encountered in the transporter room. Perhaps the Vulcan was spared from whatever happened.

 

“We are clean!” He continued, taking a step forward but Shaw raised her weapon to deter an advance. His expression fell when he looked at the smaller woman, and seemed to be scrutinizing her appearance. “No, you...” he shook his head, “you are _filthy_.”

 

Root would have liked to ask what he meant, but Shaw spoke before her. “Fuck off,” she scoffed. “Get out of our way.” It was clear that she really had enough of the _Horizon_ and everything on it.

 

Shaw took a step forward to walk by the crew-member when his arm snapped forward, his forefinger and thumb pinching near the base of her neck. “ _Parasite_!” He shouted as Shaw groaned and fell to the ground, but not before she discharged her phaser, burning her attacker's arm.

 

“No!” Root cried out, firing her weapon as well, striking the Vulcan at center mass, and he crumbled to the floor along with Shaw. She returned the phaser to her belt and knelt down over her fallen comrade, “Sameen? Wake up,” she tried lightly tapping her face with an open palm, but there was no response.

 

To make matters impossibly worse, the doors to engineering hissed open, and two of the aliens stalked out into the hallway, back-lit by the glow of the warp core inside the room. Root immediately turned off her and Shaw's wrist lamp, hoping that they weren't already aware of their presence. The two aliens made gurgling sounds as a way of communicating with each other, before they broke off and began walking down opposite ends of the hall.

 

Seeing the alien turn and face their direction snapped Root out of her daze and she quickly slipped her hands under Shaw's arms, hoisting her up from the ground. She shuffled backwards, dragging her still unconscious companion until they turned the corner and were out of the alien's line of sight. It's not like she could outrun it, especially now, and the alien would round the corner in a few seconds, the sound of thumping steps becoming louder and louder. Root propped Shaw against the bulkhead, trying desperately to figure out a plan, when her eyes spotted something above Shaw's head: a latch for a Jefferies tube.

 

She curled her fingers around the metal handle and pulled the hatch open, her eyes squinting against the light inside the tube. It was considerably bright compared to the rest of the ship, but Shaw had once told her that in emergency power situations, service corridors, Jefferies tubes, and other maintenance areas often held more energy than other zones. This was to ensure that any necessary repairs could be completed without hindrance.

 

“Up you go, sweetie,” she bent down to scoop Shaw up in her arms, lifting her petite yet solid body inside, somewhat awkwardly. This particular tube was of the variety with limited space, and forced any occupants to crouch down or kneel while inside.

 

She placed Shaw down sitting upright, then Root quickly scooped her legs up, stuffing them into the tube. Root lifted herself in the remaining space, reaching back to pull the hatch closed again. She sat with her back against the wall opposite Shaw, their legs stretched out beside each other. Root held her breath, listening as the muffled sounds of the alien grew closer. She took the phaser from her belt, holding it tightly in anticipation. The pounding of it's footsteps abruptly stopped, only to be replaced by a loud screeching sound. Root shivered, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued to listen.

 

Now, she heard their Vulcan attacker screaming for his life. His cries, mixed in with the alien's own were loud enough that she could not help but cover her ears once again. It didn't do much to help, as she heard a portion of the wailing telepathically. The thumbing of the alien's steps began again, this time in the other direction, as the man's screams faded as well. After what felt like a few minutes, she released the breath she had been holding, her hands falling into her lap. Her heart pounded in her ears, so clear that she could almost visualize the muscle pumping blood throughout her body.

 

The transporter room had been filled with dead bodies and engineering was covered by the aliens. That left their escape options dwindling fast. Dropping her phaser on the metal floor of the tube, Root leaned forward to take the tricorder from Shaw's belt, but was startled when the smaller woman's right hand snapped out to grab her wrist.

 

“Sameen?”

 

She groaned, finally stirring. Shaw opened her eyes slowly, squinting in the new light. “Why the hell are we in a tube?” Shaw released Root's arm and tried to sit up straight, her shoulders tensing, no doubt sore from the take-down. Combined with the wound on her arm, it's no surprise that her face was twisted in pain.

 

Now that they were somewhere other than a barely-lit corridor, Root could see that Shaw was seriously losing color. Root scooted forward, taking the other woman's face in her hands. Her skin was clammy, and much warmer than usual, not to mention she continued to take small, sharp breaths.

 

“You don't look so hot.” Shaw rolled her eyes, continuing to lean her head against the metal wall. “I'm serious, Shaw,” she tried to catch her gaze, but the other woman was unfocused. “Look at me.”

 

Finally Shaw met her eyes, furrowing her brow under Root's gaze. Some of the cloudiness cleared from the smaller woman's eyes when she blinked, but not all of it. “Give it a rest, will you?”

 

Reluctantly, Root released her face, then held her hand out for her scanner. Shaw's movements were stiff, but she took the tricorder from her belt and handed it to Root. She opened the small device and held it in front of her, and while she _was_ checking on an alternate escape route, she also took some quick scans of Shaw herself. This scanner was not the medical variant and she couldn't discern much, but it did tell her that Shaw's blood pressure was slowly dropping and her heart rate was steadily _decreasing_. Root folded the tricorder closed and held it back to Shaw.

 

“Well?” She asked.

 

“I think I know a way out of here,” Root said. “The ship manifest lists a shuttle craft. We can use it to get out.”

 

Shaw frowned, unconvinced. “We haven't had any luck escaping yet.”

 

“Never doubt my genius, Sameen. Besides, you know what they say,” she shrugged. “Third time's a charm.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Shaw might be a little claustrophobic, too. Trapped in a tight space on a ship full of aliens/zombies... who wouldn't be? 
> 
> Tune in next time!


	5. Escape (Plan R)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With time running out, and Shaw's condition worsening, it's up to Root to lead the way to freedom.

 

 

“Remind me again why _I'm_ going first?” Shaw said. “This was your idea.”

 

After confirming that the _Horizon_ had a functioning shuttle craft, Root decided that they would use the system of maintenance tubes to crawl into the shuttle bay without being detected and take the vessel for their escape. Presently, Shaw was crawling in the Jefferies tube ahead of Root, despite there being enough width that they could probably crawl side by side. However, since the aliens were much too large for this space, it was relatively safe for the time being. As for why Shaw had to crawl first, well...

 

“Can't beat the view, Sameen.”

 

A smile crossed her lips when she heard Shaw's heavy sigh. The trek was somewhat difficult, especially considering how short on time they must be. The ship continued it's rumble and Root estimated that the storm would pulverize it soon. It didn't help that the space was occasionally filled with the screech of aliens, or the sound of them moving around the corridor, no doubt looking for the escapees. Root hadn't heard any of them speak directly to her since the incident when Shaw was wounded, and the ghoul-like moaning had decreased in volume. Either that, or she was becoming accustomed to it. Their communication badge beeped with an incoming transmission.

 

“ _Away team, please respond,_ ” the Machine called.

 

Shaw stopped crawling momentarily to tap the pin on her chest, “go ahead.” She voice was thick with exertion, as she was still in pain. Root was thankful for their quickened pace; the sooner they were back on the _Contingency_ , the sooner her EMH could tend to Shaw's injuries.

 

“ _Sameen, your life-signs are becoming increasingly erratic,_ ” She began, to which Shaw scoffed. “ _I suggest you two leave the_ Horizon _as soon as possible._ ”

 

“Leave? Why didn't _we_ think of that?” Shaw said, her tone sarcastic.

 

“ _By my estimate, The ion storm will fully envelop the ship in less than fifteen minutes. The odds of your survival will decrease rapidly, should you remain on board by then._ ”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Away team out,” Shaw tapped her communication badge again as they reached the end of the tunnel. It broke off to the left and right, but situated in the middle was a shaft that led into the shuttle bay accompanied by a small red ladder.

 

Root waited as Shaw stopped crawling. It looked like she was rolling her left shoulder, and Root could also see her hand open and close several times. Root reached out and placed her hand over the back of Shaw's calf, squeezing the firm muscle.

 

With a loud crash, the ship shook terribly, and both women stumbled in the small space while their bodies were thrown to the left. As the lights in the tube flickered, Root regained her balance and returned to crawling position, while Shaw remained on the floor. Root moved to her side, seeing that her partners eyes were squeezed shut, her body curling into itself. A groan was escaping through her clenched teeth.

 

“You're okay, sweetie,” Root put her hand on top of Shaw's shoulder. “We're almost there.”

 

Shaw's body convulsed as she tried to fight whatever sickness was overcoming her, and Root reached out with her abilities to try and understand better. Shaw was all over the map: dizzy, exhausted, angry, determined, worried, _really_ angry. For a moment, it also felt like there was another presence inside her, but it was drowned out by the string of curse words bouncing around in her partner's mind. Unfortunately, none of the words could really be pinned down into an actual coherent thought, and Root worried what this meant for their escape. Root felt a small wave a relief rushing through Shaw, as the pain began to fade away as suddenly as it came.

 

Shaw's breathing returned to a slightly more steady rhythm, her eyes slowly peeling open. Root had to suppress a hiss at the sight because it looked like Shaw's eyes had begun to lose their pigment as well. Rather than the deep brown she was used to, she saw caramel colored orbs staring back at her with, what she could only describe as a layer of fog on top.

 

“I don't know what's happening,” Shaw said, the twinge of vulnerability in her voice made Root frown. It was one thing to be a little pale after being attacked by an unknown alien _and_ being subject to a Vulcan nerve pinch, but what could possibly explain _this_? Root furrowed her brow, holding Shaw's strange gaze.

 

The ship shook again, though not as intense as the last, and the subject of Shaw's appearance had to be pushed back for the time being. Root gestured to the ladder. “Let me go down first.”  Shaw blinked, before clearing her throat, her face suddenly flushing with color. A blush. Curiously, Root read a very fleeting pang of arousal from her partner. Her comment was not intended to be dirty, but perhaps it was a natural reaction to a stressful situation. A wry smile briefly crossed her lips, “I'm trying to save our lives, Sameen. Hold on to those thoughts for later.”

 

Root moved her body with very little difficulty, shifting her legs forward in the small space, and onto the first rung of the ladder. She lowered herself down several meters, before placing her boots on the outside edges of the metal bars, sliding down the rest of the way. She landed on the metal floor of the shuttle bay, immediately drawing her phaser and turning to survey the surroundings. Luckily, it seemed to be empty save for a small shuttle craft. The bay doors, protected by a force-field, allowed her to see the storm, the glow bathed the entire space in a blue light and provided sufficient illumination for the area. Root tapped her communication badge after completing her sweep.

 

“It's clear.”

 

Root heard faint shuffling from above her, followed by the sound of Shaw's boots on the metal rungs of the ladder. After a few minutes, Root could now see her just above the ground of the shuttle bay, maintaining a slow and steady pace. She heard the other woman grunt and watched as her foot slipped on the next rung. Losing her grip, Shaw fell the remaining distance onto the floor, first landing on her feet before stumbling onto her backside. Root was at her side immediately, taking the woman's right arm to try and help her stand again.

 

“Root,” she groaned, staggering against the taller woman with nearly all her weight. “I can barely move.”

 

“Don't worry” Root said, trying to project calm confidence that she didn't feel. “I've got you.”

 

She stumbled with Shaw across the shuttle bay, taking awkward steps to make up for their height difference and Shaw's sudden physical weakness. The two women made their way inside the empty shuttle. The craft itself was small, very spartan and looked to be used mainly for personnel transport. Along each wall were three seats that faced inwards and were equipped with buckles for safety. Above were alcoves which would typically be used to store surveying supplies, emergency rations, or even weapons. Hanging from the ship's ceiling were a row of grips for the occupants to hold for stability, should they be standing rather than sitting. The fore section of the ship was where the pilot and co-pilot seats were stationed, accompanied by the large computer console. Seeing such basic Starfleet amenities reminded her how advanced and luxurious her own ship was.

 

Nevertheless, the vessel would do just fine in the situation. “Computer, seal the doors and prepare for launch,” Root commanded. The ship system beeped in response, and she heard the doors hiss behind her.

 

Root deposited Shaw in one of the side-facing seats, and pulled the straps across her chest, fastening the buckle at her waist. She didn't think that her partner would be much help as a co-pilot, and Root wanted to keep her safe if she started thrashing around again. Root pushed some of the hair from Shaw's clammy face, the other woman struggling to lift her eyes up, the rest of her body was slack in the seat.

 

“Hang on for me, okay?” Shaw continued with her ragged breathing, but bobbed her head forward anyway. Root crossed to the pilot's chair in three long strides, touching commands at the helm control section of the console in front of her. “Computer, lay in a course for the _Contingency_ , heading 216-mark-2.”

 

The shuttle shook, beginning to turn and face the launching doors. She heard a loud crash outside and activated the view screen to see behind their craft. Two aliens had made their way into the shuttle bay in a futile attempt to stop their escape. The vessel pressed forward, both engine nacelle's lifting from their stand-by position. Root accessed the weapon function on the ship, but frowned upon seeing it was much too limited to do any kind of damage. Root was determined, however, and used her considerable computer skills to access the _Horizon_ ship controls from the small transport, preparing to disable the force-field that protected it from the vacuum of space. 

 

Moments before their ship cleared the force-field, Root manually overrode the safety protocols in place, and decompressed the shuttle bay, sending the aliens tumbling into space along with the ship. She touched two fingers to her forehead and saluted the _Horizon_ , now falling behind in the view screen.

 

Since the ship had been pulled almost entirely into the storm, the turbulence was much more intense than she anticipated, quickly draining their shields down to 74%. Root had to make several course corrections to keep them from losing control, and was forced to avoid several rock fragments that were flying around them. Taking into consideration the size of the craft, it wouldn't take much to send them _back_ into the storm, or damage engine propulsion, and the constant barrage of debris was continuing to reduce shield strength. After some tense minutes, and excellent ship steering, they were just about the clear the threshold of the ion storm. She let out a breath.

 

“How's it hanging back there, Shaw?” Root called behind her.

 

No response.

 

She spun her chair around to face the aft section of the ship. Shaw was still in the seat behind her, but her head had dropped down, chin practically resting against her chest. With all the concentration required to pilot an unfamiliar ship, Root hadn't noticed that Shaw had gone silent. Completely. She reached out with her abilities in an attempt to hear any unconscious thoughts, but was met with nothing. It was louder than all the noise on the _Horizon_ had been.

 

“Sameen,” she said firmly, voice echoing in the small ship.

 

Root stood, crossed to where Shaw was seated and knelt down in front of her. The smaller woman was very still, face obscured by her hair. Root glanced down at the wound on her shoulder, it almost looked infected.

 

“Oh, no...” Root looked more closely, seeing tendrils similar to that of the alien protruding from between Shaw's flesh. She swallowed hard, tapping her communication badge. “ _Contingency_? Can you hear me?”

 

She heard the beep as the Machine replied, “ _I am here._ ”

 

“I need you to lock on to our signals and transport us back,” Root paused. “Make sure that the EMH is activated, Shaw needs medical attention immediately.”

 

Several seconds passed, but they remained on the shuttle. The Machine's voice returned, “ _I cannot lock on to Sameen's life sign._ ”

 

“Try adjusting the scanners to pick up her heat signature instead.”

 

“ _Working... no effect._ ”

 

Root placed her hand over Shaw's. It was cold. No mental activity, no movement, and now no life sign?

 

Root was pulled from inside her own thoughts when Shaw's hand suddenly twitched underneath her own, and the woman let out a low moan. Root tried to peer at Shaw's face as she raised her head up from her chest. Ghostly white eyes met hers, she barred her teeth, animal-like in the way they seemed to be threatening her. They were discolored the same way the dead crew members had been and she feared that the person looking back at her was no longer Shaw.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in a shuttle once again, only this time the circumstances are a little unpleasant. Tune in next time for the stunning conclusion.


	6. Red Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root struggles to overcome the final hurdle of their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the finale is to your liking, and thanks for sticking with me!

 

Root sat on her heels trying to understand what she was seeing. Shaw had been attacked by one of the unidentified aliens that invaded the _Horizon_ , and now it appeared to have invaded _her_ body. The sight was so disturbing she couldn't focus on any one part of it. Shaw's skin had lost it's color, now a pale yellow, her snarling teeth were stained black and looked more vicious than ever. Pearl white eyes stared back at her, somehow both blank and filled with fury at the same time. They were seemingly unresponsive to her surroundings, with redness that made the surrounding skin look raw. The small wound on her arm, that Root and Shaw both thought to be harmless at the time, now sprouted spines that were likely crawling across the skin under her uniform. Root could see the tips sticking out from Shaw's red undershirt, the tendrils teasing her neck, burrowing into the skin.

 

Before her mind could start cycling through ways she might be able to fix whatever this was, Shaw bared her teeth and shouted at her, lurching forward in the seat she was bound to. The sound startled Root, and she stumbled backwards unto the floor of the shuttle. Shaw was pulling with all her might against the straps holding her in place, no doubt she could break free given enough time. But what then? Certainly there was a medical kit with a sedative Root could use, if she was able to get close enough. Root also had her phaser, even though the aliens weren't terribly susceptible to their force. Besides, she would also like to avoid shooting her partner, if she could.

 

The shuttle craft rumbled and Root's body shook against the force. She heard the beep of an incoming transmission.

 

“Contingency _to away team_.”

 

“Not a good time...” Root raised herself into a standing position, using back of a nearby seat for balance. She pushed herself against the metal wall, her breath shaking. This was all the distance she could put between her and Shaw, and it wasn't much.

 

“ _Scans indicate that your ship is off course_ ,” from whatever hit them a moment ago, Root figured. “ _Please make the necessary corrections to avoid being pulled back into the ion storm._ ”

 

She didn't move towards the console to follow the Machine's advice, instead remaining in place across from her companion. One of the straps on her shoulder was beginning to tear, the fibers splitting apart. Unsure of what to do, Root reached out with her abilities.

 

 _Sameen, snap out of it!_ She projected into the other woman's mind. Shaw flinched under the force of her words, shoulders raising with tension. Root detected nothing in the other woman's mind that would indicate she was even conscious.

 

The tactic didn't affect her for very long, Shaw met Root's eyes again and screamed, resuming her fight against the straps holding her down. Seeing her like this made Root's heart sink, she swallowed hard. Recognizing the tension in her chest gave her pause, allowing her a very brief moment to reflect upon this predicament. One year ago if someone said that she would be stuck on a federation shuttle craft with a raving woman, whom she had come to adore, even love, who had then been infected with an alien virus, well she would think that person was completely mad. Yet here she was, desperately wishing to save her lover's life.

 

Root felt another crash as something collided with the shuttle, and she found herself holding on to one of the grips dangling from the ceiling for balance. The lights in the small craft dimmed, replaced by a red glow as the ship automatically entered red alert. “Report!”

 

The standard female computer voice responded: “ _Warning: damage to port engine nacelle has been detected._ ”

 

Root sighed, “is anything _else_ going to go wrong?” 

 

“ _Shield strength is decreasing at a rate of 1.8% per second._ ”

 

Root threw her head back in frustration, hitting against the metal behind her. This basic interface clearly wasn't equipped to understand sarcastic, rhetorical inquiries. Shaw resumed thrashing, coming dangerously close to being freed. The groaning noise she produced sent a shiver through Root's bones, turning all the blood in her veins into cold water. She was paralyzed in place but only for a moment as she was struck with an idea. “You still reading me, _Contingency?_ ” She called to her own ship, heart racing.

 

“ _Yes._ ”

 

If the Machine couldn't detect Shaw's life-sign or heat signature, maybe there was another way to get her out of here. “I want you to use the targeting scanners to lock on to Sameen's skeletal structure for the transport.”

 

“ _Adjusting scanners now. Please stand by_.”

 

“Do it quickly. And keep this line open.”

 

Root glanced away for a moment to look out the window in the fore section of the ship. Once again she saw the blue glow of the ion storm that they bypassed earlier. She needed to get more power to the remaining engine to push them back towards her ship. Her attention was drawn back to Shaw, who shouted again, grunting with effort as the strap covering her left shoulder fully ripped away.

 

Root raised her hands defensively, “you need to fight this, sweetie.” She said aloud, meanwhile projecting more thoughts into the other woman's mind, hoping perhaps to overwhelm her long enough for the Machine to lock on to her.

 

_Please, Sameen._

 

_Listen to me._

 

_I know you're in there_

 

Shaw flinched with every word she spoke, her hand coming up to grasp her neck. In the past, Shaw experienced discomfort each time Root used her telepathic abilities against her, describing it as a tingling sensation just beneath her skin. Although Shaw told her it didn't happen quite as often since they started spending more time together, the intensity with which Root was speaking seemed to be troubling her now.

 

Shaw shook her head violently, pulling her right shoulder free of it's restraint as well, grasping the remains of the straps and throwing them to the side. The smaller woman stood slowly, body hunching over. She took one shuffling step towards Root, her hand still tightly gripping her own skin.

 

“Sameen...” she still held her hands forward, trembling.

 

Shaw's face softened ever so slightly as she swayed on her feet. Her expression, mainly the eyes, had shifted from blinding rage to a pained confusion. Root picked up a flicker of Shaw's voice with her telepathy, but it had been very faint and difficult to decipher. Shaw slid down to a kneel, arms wrapped around herself. Root took a tentative step towards her, reaching slowly for her uninjured shoulder.

 

“ _Root,_ ” the Machine cut in, “ _I have her, but not for long given your renewed vicinity to the storm._ ”

 

Shaw snarled at the sound of the Machine's voice, breaking the reprieve Root had bought herself. Shaw lunged forward, throwing her body at Root and bringing her to the ground. Even in her current state, Shaw was significantly stronger than Root, and she trapped the telepath in place by straddling her hips.

 

“Energize!” Root said, meanwhile Shaw's hands had come to grasp her throat, immediately squeezing the air from her. The blue glow enveloped the smaller woman's body, light from the transport shining brightly in Root's eyes before it was ripped away. The weight from her throat lifted as Shaw disappeared, leaving Root to cough on the floor of the ship, now alone.

 

“ _Transport complete._ ”

 

“Good,” she took a deep breath, “put a level 8 force-field around her and prepare to receive me, too.”

 

Seconds ticked by, yet no acknowledgment came from the Machine. She crossed to the pilot seat, stumbling into the chair as the ship shook.

 

“ _You will need to steer the ship free from the storm before the transport can be initiated safely._ ”

 

At this point, Root was willing to take the transport _un_ safely to be done with this mission already. Even if it meant her limbs were rearranged when she materialized back on the _Contingency._ Root looked over the ship information on the displays in front of her. Propulsion systems were failing due to the damage to the engine, interference from the storm was draining their shields. Transport, weapons, and communication controls were offline. Root was fortunate that she was still able to speak with her ship on a dedicated line.

 

Root began transferring all available power to the starboard nacelle, hoping that it would be enough to allow the engine to reach impulse speeds and clear the storm. If weapons hadn't been offline, she may have considered launching a torpedo to propel the ship forward, though she wasn't sure the ship would survive a grenade jump.

 

“ _Warning: shields at 31% and falling._ ” The standard computer voice advised.

 

“How much power does the engine need to reach impulse?”

 

“ _A single engine must be working at 50% in order for the impulse drive to be used._ ”

 

Root scanned the console in front of her, seeing that the engine currently held around 40%, though the number decreased a small amount with every hit they took. She had moved power from most of the remaining systems, except of course...

 

“Computer, transfer all power from life support and environmental controls to the starboard engine.”

 

“ _Warning: transferring life support will reduce oxygen to a level that is inhospitable for human occupants._ ”

 

“I think I'd rather suffocate than be crushed in this tin can. _Contingency,_ prepare for transport as soon as I clear the threshold.”

 

“ _Acknowledged,_ ” her own voice replied.

 

Root watched the display as the necessary transfer of power was completed, the engine status climbing up to 60%, while life support ticked down on it's way to 0%. She let out a shaky breath, seeing mist form in the now freezing air of the shuttle craft. Her fingers trembled as she made adjustments to their path, compensating for the single engine while trying to avoid any of the larger debris and travel in a straight line towards her ship. Without constant course corrections, the shuttle would have simply spun in circles.

 

“ _Warning: shields have failed._ ”

 

As the warning was given, a large mass struck the front end of the ship, cracking the display screen in front of her. Root tried to take small breaths but she could already feel her lungs becoming tight from the effort, and the oxygen levels severely depleted*. Her vessel rumbled but continued to push forward, dark spots were poking holes in her vision, and the fracture in front of her increased in length as she approached the threshold.

 

It wasn't until the glass appeared to be split from one end to the other that Root considered she may not successfully return to her ship. That just wouldn't do, she thought, as Shaw's life depended on hers right now. If her ship made it back to the rendezvous with the _Dashwood_ without her, who would explain the rabid version of Shaw who was trapped inside? Shaw had the data from the _Horizon_ on her tricorder, but given the state she was in, it would be difficult to retrieve from her. Would Finch even try to cure her?

 

Her body trembled, but she was starting to see the blackness of space beyond the colors in the storm. A smile briefly crossed her lips as her vision became blurry. Warm blue light danced across her body, illuminating her outstretched arms. She shut her eyes, lids becoming much too heavy to keep open, and she felt her body be lifted from the cold compartment of their borrowed vehicle. Root opened her eyes again to the sight of her own ship's cockpit, however, her legs lost their strength and she immediately stumbled to the ground. Her vision swam as she tried to look around. She thought she could see Shaw lying in the aft portion behind the flickering light of the force field.

 

“We made it...” she said to herself, before slipping into darkness.

 

 

/

 

 

_Reckless._

 

_Irresponsible._

 

_Dangerous._

 

The words kicked around in Root's head before her mind fully regained consciousness. It was a man's voice, stern, clearly unhappy yet a twinge of worry lined his thoughts. She heard another voice, but with her ears this time.

 

“She's lucky to be alive. They both are.” A female. Calm, warm, intelligent and professional.

 

Root's eyes fluttered open, struggling under the harsh light above her. A sigh escaped her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut again, unable to adjust.

 

“Miss Groves?” The male voice said aloud. It was Finch, but she never made it back to the _Dashwood_ , did she?

 

Root felt hands on her shoulders, followed by something cold pressing against her neck. It must have been medication because a few seconds later the cobwebs were gone from her head, the weight from her lungs lifted, and the stiffness in her body melted away. She let out a breath, opening her eyes once again to take in her surroundings. She was definitely in sick bay, the harsh light and white walls oddly comforting given the amount of time she'd just spent on a dark and unwelcoming ship. Their holographic doctor, Dr Enright, stood to her left with a hypospray in hand, while Harold Finch stood to her right.

 

She sat up slowly, the doctor's hands reaching out to steady her shoulders. She was on an examination bed, not dressed in a medical gown, but the base layer of the Starfleet uniform, which consisted of a gray sleeveless shirt, and her regular black slacks. Many questions crossed her mind, including how she made it back on board the _Dashwood_ , but there was something more pressing she needed to know. She met the brown eyes of their doctor.

 

“Where is she?” Root's voice was weaker than she expected. She swallowed hard.

 

The holographic woman smiled, which Root took as a good sign, and stepped aside. In the isolated surgical area behind the doctor, Root could see a figure lying in the bed under dimmed lights, a surgical support frame in place across her chest. She sighed, relief washing over her body. Somehow they both made it back to the ship, certainly the Machine was to thank for that.  Root eased her legs over the edge of the bed, still some minor stiffness in her limbs. The doctor stepped aside, but remained close enough to steady her if need be, while Harold inched closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Root turned to the ship's captain, eyes narrow, and he withdrew.

 

“Miss Shaw is still resting,” he said. “Perhaps you can tell me what went wrong on the _Horizon_? Our scans indicate that it was destroyed.”

 

Root nodded, hoping that the on-board _guests_ were destroyed as well. She could sense a variety of strong disgruntled emotions from Harold, which began dampening her alleviated mood. It looked like Shaw had made it through the ordeal, what else mattered?

 

Thankfully, before she was forced into a lengthy explanation, their doctor spoke up again; “If I may, Root has been through quite a bit herself. We should wait until after she's had time to rest.”

 

Harold tried to hide the annoyance in his face, but Root read him easily. She always thought that machines were better than most people, Harold proved that, but perhaps she should expand that to include holograms as well. Her lips curled up a fraction.

 

“Very well,” Finch said. “When you're feeling up to it, Miss Groves, please report to my office and we can talk about what happened.”

 

“Aye-aye, Harry.”

 

He turned to step from her side and headed for the door. She listened as the door hissed open and his uneven steps walked through it. Once it was clear, she took a tentative step down from the bed and approached the surgical bay, where Shaw was still resting. She stood over her partner's unconscious form and tried to take in her condition under the low light. Her hair had been freed from it's bun, and the color in her skin was definitely returning. She wore an oxygen mask over her face, the tube feeding into the ventilation unit attacked to the base of the surgical bed. Root couldn't see Shaw's wound very well, as her arms were mostly obscured by the support frame, but no doubt it had been treated.

 

Reaching forward, she brushed hair from her partner's face, smiling as she reached out with her telepathic abilities. Shaw's mind was active again, though in her current state the only words that really stuck out were _saf_ _e, pizza,_ and _Root_. Root felt her cheeks get warm at the notion that her safety was a priority for the smaller woman. After a good meal, of course.

 

“Sameen is lucky to be alive,” the doctor said as she walked to the opposite side of the bed, medical tricorder in hand.

 

“What exactly happened to her?”

 

Not looking up from the scanner, Dr Enright explained: “when the alien struck her arm, it transferred some kind of parasite into Shaw's body. The intention of the creature seems to be to burrow into the host's body and take over organ functions, until it has complete control over the subject.

 

Her heart, lungs, and nervous system were among those that were attacked,” the doctor continued. “I imagine the process is easier if the host is _dead_ prior to transfer, since the parasite cannot sustain life on it's own. She also appeared to have suffered burns on her hands, unrelated to the parasite.”

 

“I had the Machine put a force-field around her once she became...” Shaw had likely tried to escape her confinement on the _Contingency_ , thus resulting in her hands being burned.

 

“I don't think she'd take too kindly to that, especially given her state. Regardless, it was easily treated.”

 

Root nodded, beginning to gently stroke Shaw's hair. “Thank you for saving her.”

 

“Of course,” she smiled, folding the tricorder and returning it to the pocket in her white lab coat. “The parasite was removed and quarantined for later study. It's unlike anything in my database, and I'm looking forward to learning more about it.” Root nodded absently, studying Shaw's face as she slept.

 

“I didn't think we would make it back,” Root said.

 

“We didn't, either,” Dr Enright replied. She went on to tell Root that the _Dashwood_ 's number on the Barjoan planet was a simple one, easily handled by John. On their way back to the rendezvous point, the Machine had received a distress call from Root's shuttle craft. The _Dashwood_ traveled using their specialized slipstream drive in order to meet up with them as soon as possible, and Root's ship was able to pilot itself once they were both safely on board.

 

After the doctor's explanation, Root watched her draw a hypospray from her pocket. “I can wake her up if you want to speak with her, but try to keep it brief. The parasite did quite a number on her lungs and she can't breath on her own for very long.”

 

Root nods, watching the doctor press the tip of the medical device to Shaw's neck. Once the medication was administered, she gently took the oxygen mask from her face, laying it on the medical table beside the surgical station.

 

“I'll give you a few minutes,” the doctor said. “Remember to keep it short,” Root nodded gratefully, and the Dr Enright walked towards the office for the chief medical officer.

 

Shaw began to stir, Root watched her eyelashes flutter as the medication helped bring her to consciousness. Root could see Shaw's eyes scanning her surroundings, and the taller woman was thankful to see that they had regained their chestnut hue. Root rolled a nearby stool closer to the bed and took a seat, leaning close.

 

“Hey there.”

 

Root watched Shaw's throat muscles move when she swallowed. “What happened?” Shaw replied, her voice heavy.

 

So Root told her what she knew: that they barely escaped the _Horizon_ by way of transporting off their borrowed shuttle, and that the ship had been destroyed in the passing storm. She told her that the _Contingency_ was to thank for getting them back here in (mostly) one piece, and that the doctor was able to remove the parasite that infected her and turned her into a snarling animal. Root drew similarities between their situation and a zombie virus from old science fiction phenomena, which Shaw did not find amusing.

 

She also explained that Shaw would have to remain off-duty for quite some time as she fully recovered, which was evident as even this brief conversation seemed to drain her of energy. Shaw had asked if she hurt Root during the ordeal, but Root wanted to wait until Shaw was back on her feet before divulging too many details. Root shook her head.

 

“Next time,” Shaw mumbled, her eyes closing, “Finch should just send us to a ship filled with clowns.”

 

Root breathed out a laugh. What a strange thing to say, she thought, but as she continued to smooth down her companion's hair, Shaw's train of thought continued with: _fucking clowns..._

 

“You aren't afraid of...?”

 

With her eyes still closed, Shaw's head moved from side to side. “Not a chance.”

 

Root smiled, watching Shaw's face relax as she slipped back into sleep. Root stood from the stool and walked to the opposite side of the bed. Picking up the clear oxygen mask from the table, she fastened it back in place over Shaw's mouth and nose.

 

“I shouldn't keep Harry waiting,” Root leaned down, pressing her lips to Shaw's forehead. “Get some rest, Sameen.”

 

Standing to her full height, Root only managed a half turn before she heard Shaw's voice in her mind:

 

_Stay._

 

She turned to face her partner again, a helpless smile threatening to split her face in two. She returned to the seat next to the bed, content to watch the oxygen max fog up as Shaw's breathing deepened with sleep. Root came to the decision that the debrief with Harold could certainly wait a few more minutes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aliens weren't based on any one type of species, but a combination of a few different creatures: zombies, the flood, the propagator alien, species 8472 etc. I thought keeping it somewhat vague would make them more creepy.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for tuning in! Oh, and Happy Halloween!


End file.
